


What Is An Echo But A Return to Sender

by CaseyStar



Series: Merthur Party 2013 [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Reincarnation, Reunion, king once and king again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur returns and soon destiny knocks</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is An Echo But A Return to Sender

**Author's Note:**

> Final Merthur Party 2013 piece, for prompt seven
> 
> As ever dedicated to my awesome King - ilurvedoctorwho
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

Merlin doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t care for oxygen or about how his head feels light, knees weak and that he might drift away on the breeze. He pretty certain it’s Arthur that’s making him feel like that. 

Arthur, who has returned to him, who is safe within his arms once more. Arthur who looks the same, tastes the same, smells the same.  
But he has changed. Merlin is no longer the young man he was. Even with the aging spell removed he has lived hundreds of lifetimes, and is weary from the battle.

It’s Arthur who finds the will to draw back, draw breath, resting his forehead against Merlin’s, an echo of so long ago, a hello and not a goodbye.  
“Merlin,” he whispers softly, and oh that voice, that beloved voice. “Merlin, smile for me. I haven’t seen you smile in too long.”

Unable to stop himself even if he wanted, Merlin finds himself smiling through his tears as he cradles Arthur’s cheeks in his hands, thumbs brushing over the soft skin beneath blue eyes, a happy sob captured between their lips

“I watched you.” 

Merlin flushes with embarrassment. There are times that he is not proud of, that he’d rather forget existed and Arthur knows them all, of this he is sure. He wants to find excuses, explanations, to redeem himself to his love but the words rush up his throat, choking him. So he does what he can, reaching forward once more to press his lips to Arthur’s, hands dropping to press over his heart.

Merlin’s tongue was laden with all the words he didn’t know how to say, all the words he brushed onto Arthur’s lips and tongue, painting all the thoughts and fears and worries he can’t verbalise, onto teeth and tongue and lips, feeling them swallowed away.

Arthur’s dressed only in his tunic and britches, his armour and cloak shed and left behind with the Sidhe. He has no need of them now; Merlin will provide all the protection he could need. With the sun shining off his golden hair like a crown, his smile broad and lighting up his face, he so reminds Merlin of the boy he once met that it takes the sorcerer’s breath away, fast, like a punch to the gut and suddenly the words he needs trip off his tongue.

"You've had your rest my friend"

Arthur's eyes narrowed but he smirked before raising his eyebrows. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Merlin."

"So I do know you." Arthur tugged him even closer and Merlin’s eyes slid shut as he inhaled deeply, drawing that beeswax, metal and leather scent deep lungs that had almost forgotten, feeling his very cells rejoice in its return. 

"Tell me Merlin," Arthur’s breath wafted over Merlin’s face, "have you yet learnt to walk on your knees?" 

At the brush of his King's thumbs as he wiped away tears, Merlin couldn't hold back his sobs, burying his face in his neck, only dimly aware of Arthur lifting him, and kneeling, taking them down to the ground and covering Merlin’s body with him own, pressing him into the hard ground as Merlin’s magic danced and skipped across his skin, relearning his every pore, hesitating over at the scar on his left side and Merlin’s tears seeped into the dirt, the earth alive again with Arthur’s return.

“I’m home.” 

Merlin’s hiccup of laughter is harsh, his throat shredded.  


“Merlin?”  


“Yeah?” Merlin replied, smiling at how Arthur’s hands were exploring the pouch of his hoodie.  


“What in the name of Camelot are you wearing?”

 

*** *** ***

 

It took some time adjusting, for them both. Arthur had seen snatches of history but never details like how to work indoor plumbing or why refrigerator doors should always be kept closed and that laptop thing he didn't trust as far as he could throw it. Which he'd tried and wound up with a furious warlock. 

Merlin didn't let Arthur out of his sight for days, constantly touching him to ground himself in this reality. He'd dreamt of this so often that he couldn’t trust that it wasn’t all a dream. For the first three days they barely let the other out of bed, Merlin content to stare at Arthur for hours and Arthur happy to distract him from the task with bouts of extremely athletic sex.

By day eight Arthur was going crazy and while Merlin slept, stole his key and left for a short walk in the surrounding wood. He’d lost track of time as he sauntered along the riverbank, mulling over making a fishing pole, that by the time he made his way back to the cottage, he arrived in time to see a still-naked Merlin tearing out the front door, pale as paper as he screamed for Arthur. Arthur had been expecting anything except the punch that impacted his jaw and he staggered back with eyes wide.

“You are such a bastard!” Merlin flattened his palms against Arthur’s chest, shoving him back even further. “Why couldn’t you even leave a note? Why did you leave? Did you want to go?” Tears streamed down Merlin’s face but the colour had yet to flood back into his face, despite his fury. “Is that what you want?”

Arthur didn’t even try to answer, just let Merlin keep pushing him backwards until they toppled into the garden wall, Arthur uncaring about the cool damp that seeped into his shirt.

“I didn’t want to leave you the first time,” he whispered, hands grabbing at Merlin’s wrists and tugging Merlin against him, feeling how terror had leeched heat from Merlin’s skin, wrapping himself around his lover, heart breaking at the feel of tears seeping into his collar as the warlock still struggled against him.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” Arthur whispered again. 

“You should have-”

“I’m sorry.” They both knew he wasn’t apologising for his jaunt but neither was going to draw attention it. 

“You can make me breakfast to make up for it.” 

And gather up the shattered glass of the milk bottle that Merlin must have dropped when he realised Arthur was missing, while Merlin got himself some clothes. Arthur was still wary of the television but he had grown very fond of the radio, so though Merlin still felt very fragile ten minutes later when he descended the stairs, he couldn’t help but laugh as Arthur shimmied along to the classic rock he had blaring. Three days it’d taken to teach Arthur how to use the kettle, but song lyrics he seemed to absorb like a sponge.

Sliding his arms around Arthur’s waist, Merlin rested his cheek against his strong back and rejoiced in his steady heartbeat.

“Wanna come into the village with me?” 

“In the horseless-carriage?” Arthur asked, plucking the warm toast from the toaster and turning off the hob, doling out servings of scrambled egg onto each piece.

“Car.”

“Yes, that thing.”

“Alright.”

Neither notice they’ve left the radio on as they head to car, and neither hear the news bulletin that breaks into the music.

‘Breaking news this hour. Officials have confirmed that the Croatoan virus is responsible for the deaths and reanimation of hundreds of people…’


End file.
